Twilight Saga: Red Moon's Fate
by Lennie-Boo-Lentil
Summary: Dr. Carlisle Cullen treats an injured Esme Platt, not realizing that this would be the woman he would spend his life with. I do not own any of this, it's all thanks to Stephenie Meyer!
1. Chapter 1

**About when Carlisle met Esme, it's in two hits so it makes it easier to read. Too much on one page just makes me go, urgh, and not read it. So here it is.**

The year is 1911. It's a more genteel time, or so the more well-to-do would like everyone think. Ankle-length dresses, with cinched waistlines, fancy hats and even little parasols are not unheard of. Children's fashions are a little more relaxed, certainly, but one girl's mother keeps trying to impress upon her that she's not a child anymore but a young lady… so she's been forced to wear a slightly fancier outfit today. But to her mother's dismay, what her mother dresses her in does not stop Esme from running out with her younger friends to climb trees; yes, in a pretty silk dress of royal blue and cream with ribbons and pleated bits, lace and baubles — just the type which would get dirty, ripped and then break her mother's heart.

But sadly, one of the boys was rough-housing a little too much up in said tree, accidentally knocking the budding young lady off the bough she had perched upon. There was a loud snap, then Esme could hear a blood-curtling scream… only to realize it was she who belonged to the scream.

Some time later, she is physically carried into the hospital by her father, a gruff-seeming man with a kind heart. The young girl's heart-shaped face is pale, ashen, her caramel-hued curls hanging about her face, clinging to clammy skin. Her eyes are closed and she whimpers occasionally as her father steps a little more harshly than intended, jostling her. Beneath her skirts, her right leg hangs at a bit of a funny angle.

Having just finished with one of his patients, Carlisle's lips pulling into a quiet, reassuring but charming smile for the little girl he had just treated. She has two stitches in her forehead, but she is grinning broadly. "Thats a good girl." He soothes and straightens to look to the parents. "Two weeks then the stitches can come out." With nods given, he smiles once more and turns to leave the curtained area as he takes the chart in hand, writing down a few notes at the bottom before signing off on it.

A nurse intercepts Esme's father and points towards one of the open beds. "Over here, please, sir." Carlisle hasn't changed much from now until the future, his short blonde hair remaining the same- his eyes a striking golden hue. His clothes are much in tune with the times, his white labcoat in the fashion of the era draped down his form to denote his status as a doctor.

Esme's father grunts briefly and nods at the nurse, following obediently along toward the indicated bed. Despite how gruff he might seem on the outside, he handles his daughter with great care… as much as his large frame allows. Gently lying his daughter on the indicated bed, he intones to the nurse, "It's her right leg. Ruddy girl fell out of a tree if you can believe it." His wife might make excuses of being tossed off a horse or falling out of a wagon but he'll do no such covering up.

"Whatever she needs. Hear me?" He then releases the girl and straightens, running his hand through his hair. He looks a little helpless for a moment, looking down at his daughter. He then mutters something about leaving his wife in the waiting area and begins to lumber off in that direction, deciding there's not much else he can do.

Esme, for her part, lies on the bed almost motionless. Her face is tear-streaked but she appears to be calm for the most part. Or unconscious. Maybe she's simply in shock.

Carlisle passes the father on his way to Esme, a polite if quiet smile is tilted towards the man, perhaps a glimmer of recognition as well. He's sure he's seen him around the area before. Moving into Esme's curtained area, the nurse is going about making sure that Esme is comfortable with pillows and trying to bare her broken leg for the doctor to examine. She is careful in her movements, not wanting to cause her any more pain than she is in.

Carlisle takes up a fresh chart, penciling a few things before he moves more to Esme's bedside. "Greetings." He begins in a soft voice, his golden eyes gentle as he works at visually assessing Esme. "What is your name?" He starts, and once that is answered, despite having heard the tale from her father, he questions in another soft tone: "What happened?"

As Esme hears the voice near her asking her questions, something in the back of her brain tells her that it's speaking to her. Slowly she rouses, not yet opening her eyes. She tries to shift a little, then winces, suddenly reminded that her leg is injured. As the nurse bares the injured leg for the doctor, it's plain to see that it's a break in the lower portion of her leg.

"Esme," the girl finally replies, her tone and volume soft and quiet. "Esme Platt," she adds, as though realizing he might have been asking for more than just her first name. She speaks as though through just waking from a nap, sounding a little groggy… it's just the effects of the injury. Slowly, she starts to open her eyes as she adds, "I… fell out of a tree…" Deep brown eyes are slowly revealed as she looks up, not yet focusing on the doctor hovering nearby. "Then I heard a loud crack… and then there was a lot of pain… in my leg." She fell out of a tree, dressed like that. She's obviously a little bit of a rebel against her parents… a little adventurous by the virtue of her clinging youth.

"Esme," Carlisle breathes the name, using his talents to try and sooth her and give her something else to think about except the pain. A simple name said, however. His gaze shifts to the nurse and he hands over the chart with a few murmured instructions- mainly to take over the writing and to fetch a cup of willowbark tea. He doesn't want to subject Esme to morphine just yet, but willowbark will at least take the edge off.

As the nurse leaves, he moves around to the other side of Esme's bed and slips on a pair of gloves. The material hides the coolness of his touch at least some, but the thinness doesn't bar him to the point of impairment in his work. He leans over her, letting the overhead light shine as with his fingers he gently opens her eyes to check her pupils before he lets go. "Are you dizzy at all? A headache?" She might have a concussion from the fall.

For a long moment, Esme remains absolutely still, seeming to stare off into space, unaware of the transaction between doctor and nurse. But then he's touching her, checking her eyes in the light above the bed. She fights the reaction to blink until he's finished, murmuring, "No… none of that. My… leg just really hurts…" Yet, she's keeping calm. The creases in her forehead might indicate the strain she's used to keep calm now. Likely, her mother chided her along the way and told her to 'buck up' and be brave, to save face to some degree.

Only once his hand moves from her eyes does she now turn her gaze over to the doctor… and for a moment, she nearly stops breathing. Quickly remembering herself, she clears her throat and looks over his shoulder a bit. She's used to older doctors, perhaps. But even through her pain-filled haze, she can't help but take notice of the young doctor's handsome features. Trying to cover for her misstep, she murmurs, "I don't think I hit my head. I landed on my foot…"

As she finally makes eye contact with him, Carlisle can't help but offer a soft smile. "You will be alright." He promises. Though as he shifts to take a look at her leg, not yet touching her, the nurse returns with the tea. "I'm going to help you sit up, honey, then you need to drink this down, alright?" The nurse, has to be in her mid-thirties, is pretty for her age but weather and age worn. Years of long days and stress show in the lines of her face, but her brilliant blue eyes are still sparkling with life. She sets the chart down and slides an arm around Esme's shoulders to slowly help her up.

However, noticing the slight strain on the nurse, Carlisle sidesteps to be at Esme's side again, one hand effortlessly moving to her back, hand flattening against her spine. A touch of support as much as it is comfort, looking ready to 'tense and capture' the patient if the nurse should lose her. The cup of tea is offered, given to Esme's lips. "Down it all." Carlisle instructs quietly.

Carlisle's reassurance seems to relax her slightly but sitting up isn't going to be easy. Even trying to sit up pulls on muscles… everything's interconnected, after all. So as the nurse helps her sit up, Esme winces and lets out a little whimper, but so far she's doing what she can to be brave, as her mother asked. But with Carlisle's help, she finally gets into a seated position.


	2. Chapter 2

She glances first at the nurse, then at Carlisle before she nods once, and sips at the offered tea. Finding it's not too hot to drink, she knocks it back, making a bit of a face at the taste but otherwise not complaining. Within minutes, the tea is gone and Esme pulls her head back away from the cup.

Once the tea is downed, Carlisle's subtle strength fades as the nurse lays Esme back, and he withdraws his touch completely right before Esme is put fully back on the bed. "That will kick in soon." Carlisle promises, and the nurse takes up the chart to jot down a few more things- catching up on the writing that hasn't been done yet.

As the nurse writes, Carlisle steps down to the broken leg again, tilting his head as he visually assesses the break. His golden eyes trail the bruising and the mangled bone beneath the surface, plotting the bone's course in his head in silence. With a brief nod to himself, he lifts his gaze to the nurse briefly before they move to Esme. "We are going to have to set the bone before we splint it. I'm sorry, but this will hurt at first." He warns.

If Esme were more alert, she might have considered the ease with which he moved her a little out of the ordinary, but maybe not. And she's certainly far from alert. Now that they've finished with the tea and she's settled back against the bed, Esme seems to relax a little. She watches not the nurse, but the doctor as he moves down the length of the bed to assess her injuries while she waits for the tea to have some effect.


	3. Chapter 3

Perhaps she's a little smitten by the young doctor, or perhaps she's simply curious about what's to happen next. Regardless of the motive, her gaze doesn't leave him for the time being. So when he finally looks back at her, she blinks a little and flushes ever so slightly as though caught red-handed. But she recovers quickly. It's only a second later that she realizes what he's said. "Hurt?" she asks in a small voice, obviously a little scared about the prospect. But, with a slow nod, she murmurs, "Alright…"

For some reason, the blush makes him smile. Despite how he handles most patients, there is something in his unbeating heart that is screaming that this one is different. How odd to have that sensation, but despite it all, his smile remains in place, though it softens. "It will hurt at first, Esme, I have to set it or it won't heal properly." His words are like a silent promise that it will be over soon. The nurse, almost taking it as a cue, sets the chart down and rests one hand on Esme's shoulder while the other slides into Esme's hand. "You can squeeze my hand, honey, if you'd like. It helps. It won't take long."

There is a brief glance that Carlisle shares with the nurse, and taking her nod as his own cue, his gloved hands skillfully shift to Esme's leg. His touch is confident, but precise. His fingers find the break and in one swift movement, and the ill sound of bone movement, he shifts the break back into place.

That smile on his face all but takes her breath away for a brief moment. Never has she seen such a beautiful thing… or so her mind is telling her through all of this. It makes her heart flutter briefly. A moment later, she clears her throat and forces herself to look away from Carlisle to the nurse as she holds the girl down and takes hold of one of her hands.

The brave face she's put on through this ordeal is one which is about to be shattered, however. Despite her mother's insistence to 'behave herself' — never having broken a bone and therefore unaware of the pain which comes with it — Esme is unable to keep that semblance of calm for much longer. As his hand touches her leg, she tenses up, so sensitive is the nature of her injury. Her hand tenses around the nurse's hand, her other hand grabbing at the bedding… and as his hands shift the bones back together, she can't help but scream. Her eyes clench shut, her face scrunches up and her torso threatens to bow upward, but the nurse mostly keeps her horizontal. Now Esme's tears start anew, slipping down her ashen cheeks.

Once the bone has been put back in place, Carlisle easily shifts back to stand closer to Esme's side, his gloved hand taking her own, his other going to her shoulder much in mirror of the Nurse. "Splint." He speaks simply to the nurse, the older woman nodding with a brief look down at Esme before she goes to acquire the necessary impliments for the splint. "It will pass." Carlisle reminds Esme, giving her some hope to cling to as the pain washes through her.


	4. Chapter 4

Staring up at the ceiling, her forehead creased from the pain and her face has completely blanched, pulling all colour from her lips as well, Esme blinks slowly, her scream transforming swiftly into an almost sobbed whimpering. But it's obvious that despite the pain, she's trying to regain some semblance of control. Feeling his hand upon her shoulder and taking up her hand, she slowly shifts her foggy focus on Carlisle's face, almost using it as an anchor. The nurse is forgotten as she allows herself to get a little lost in his strange eyes as she murmurs, "I… I know… I'm… I'm s-sorry…"

As she apologizes, his hand tightens just a little around her own, trying to offer a semblance of comfort without giving away his secret. He is sure the gloves he wears only bars the cold of his skin for so long- which is why he only briefly ever touches anyone with them on. His lips pull into a quiet smile, well aware of the spell he can weave over his patients, especially the females, but for some reason- the spell he weaves this time for the comfort of his patient seems to be different.

"Your fine, don't apologize. I know it must hurt." Carlisle soothes in a quiet tone. As he finally notices the tear, he shhhs softly. "Its okay." The hand on her shoulder, once aware that she isn't going to jar off the bed, moves to wipe one of the tears away, his smile unfaultering. "Is the tea settling in well?" It should be kicking in about now.

If she notices the coolness of his hand, Esme doesn't mention. The pain in her leg is too great for her to pay attention to such details. The comfort that hand gives her, however, is unmistakable and hard to ignore. Her grasp tightens a little. As he reassures her and brushes off her apology, she seems to settle a little more. But if he worried about her writhing off the bed, he needn't do so — the moment he wipes away that tear, she stills herself completely.

For a moment, she can't find her voice. But then, she manages a little whisper, "Th-thank you… and… I think so. The tea, I mean. I think it's helping." Helping but not completely alleviating. Those creases in her forehead still haven't smoothed. Right now, her leg throbs horribly but the edge is off at least, and the pain is not so sharp.

As the tea seems to be settling in, and feeling the returned grasp of his hand, the one at her shoulder remains featherlight, but his grasp to her hand remains as strong as she gives. He is careful not to squeeze too hard, keeping in mind it is a human he has here before him. He does so much in human doses out of habit, anyway, it hardly takes a thought for him to do so.

"I need to talk to your father, but I will be back soon, alright? The nurse is preparing your splint, I will be here to apply it." He offers gently, his smile warming. "I'll be right back." He promises and withdraws from her completely to turn away and head into the waiting area.

There's a vaguely disappointed frown which creeps into her features as he mentions needing to talk to her father. That means that the handsome doctor will have to leave her alone. Perhaps it's good that he can't read minds.

But slowly, she manages a nod with a quiet, "Alright…" Sighing, Esme slowly relinquishes her hold of his hand, taking what comfort she can from the lingering memory of his touch as he withdraws from her. But as he turns away and moves off, her gaze follows him as far as she can see … which is about whenever he disappears beyond her curtain, since they were drawn to offer her some privacy.

It doesn't take long for Carlisle to explain the break to her father and the necessary precautions that will need to be taken during the healing process. Pain regulation treatments as well as changing of her bandaging and care of the splint. She's to return in six months for reassessment - only he doesn't mention that Carlisle himself will not be present. He simply says 'the available doctor will see to her'. A promise.

With her father taken care of, Carlisle returns to Esme, letting the curtain fall to conceal their privacy once he is within. The nurse has been by with the splint pieces, but she had to go deal with an emergency patient. Another doctor was already with said patient, which left Carlisle free to tend to Esme. "How are you feeling?" He questions softly, as if his voice was only for her ears.

Her father took it all in stride, listening as carefully as he could. He will be sure that the girl receives the care the good doctor prescribes, for certain. Everything is repeated back to Carlisle to make sure that he's got everything straight; he'll be sure to repeat it again later to his wife, to make sure they collectively recall all that needs to be done.


	5. Chapter 5

Within the confines of her private little bed surrounded by the curtain, Esme paid little attention to the nurse when she came, staring off at a fold in the curtain as she tries very hard to silence herself and seem 'brave', as her mothers words come back to her through the pain. So as the handsome doctor appears near her bed again, she almost seems startled, as though not expecting him to be back or so soon. But he did promise he'd tend to the splint. Seeking out his face as he speaks softly, she tempts a one-shouldered shrug, though it's a minute version of the gesture. She lies, "I'm alright…" If that were completely true, her forehead might be smooth and she might not seem so pale.

The molten golden eyes of the young Doctor watch Esme intently, noting the paleness and hearing the edge of the lie in her voice. Such things he is used to finding with his patients, things he uses to help treat them. Find the lies, find the truth. "Tell me how you feel- what hurts?" The paleness bothers him, considering it could be from infection or bloodloss, but neither he has managed to find. "Esme, I need you to be honest with me." His own tone of plea in his voice surprises him, his lips pressing thin after as he studies her face for the answers. What is it about this young girl that has him drawn so?

At first, Esme says nothing nor does she really react too much, trying to continue to put on that brave face. She's already been mortified by her reaction to the re-setting of the bone — her mother would chide her if she were here in the room when that happened. But as he asks her to be honest with him, she slowly raises her gaze again toward him. The moment her eyes look up at him, it's as though her gaze becomes locked in place. Despite her own inclination to shy away from such a direct look, she finds she can't look away either. Visibly, she swallows. The intensity of his concerned gaze is almost unbearable.

But the plea is heard and acknowledged as she sighs quietly. "It's… just my leg, obviously. It's been broken, so it's supposed to hurt." She says this softly, as though in a little bit of a daze… she still can't quite look away from him, seemingly caught under some kind of spell. "It's… just throbbing. It's not so bad… maybe the tea will help some more soon." But it should be at full potency now. "I've never broken anything before," she finally admits quietly.

At first, Esme says nothing nor does she really react too much, trying to continue to put on that brave face. She's already been mortified by her reaction to the re-setting of the bone — her mother would chide her if she were here in the room when that happened. But as he asks her to be honest with him, she slowly raises her gaze again toward him. The moment her eyes look up at him, it's as though her gaze becomes locked in place. Despite her own inclination to shy away from such a direct look, she finds she can't look away either. Visibly, she swallows. The intensity of his concerned gaze is almost unbearable.

But the plea is heard and acknowledged as she sighs quietly. "It's… just my leg, obviously. It's been broken, so it's supposed to hurt." She says this softly, as though in a little bit of a daze… she still can't quite look away from him, seemingly caught under some kind of spell. "It's… just throbbing. It's not so bad… maybe the tea will help some more soon." But it should be at full potency now. "I've never broken anything before," she finally admits quietly.

There is a softer smile that Carlisle wears now, as he is certain it is the pain and nothing else that is bothering her physically. "Tell me, Esme, on a scale of one to ten, one being no pain, and ten being the worst you've experienced, where is your pain level right now?" Obviously the willowbark isn't working as well as he had hoped, but depending on her answer, he can give her something a little stronger.

"Breaking bones can be quite painful. It will be a difficult healing period, but will go smoothly as long as you take care of it."


	6. Chapter 6

There's a visible wince on the girl's face. She had hoped he wouldn't probe farther about her pain levels. She's trying to be brave here! Sighing, Esme finds she can't muster the ability to lie to him again — certainly not with him looking down at her like this. But she stalls momentarily.

"I'll try not to break another bone," she reassures him. "Mother doesn't want me climbing in trees anymore… I probably won't be doing that for a long time now…" If ever again. She can't stall forever. There's another quiet sigh before she murmurs, "It… might have been a ten before. Now… it's maybe a six…?" She's guessing. Having never really dealt with a lot of pain before, she really isn't sure how this all works. "Maybe five? I'm not certain… it's not sharp like it was…" But she did say it throbs. It will do that for a while, no doubt.

There is an easy smile that Carlisle has. A smile that he can't help but have despite the situation with this particular patient. This one he will remember for years to come, but he doesn't know that just yet. "Not breaking another one at least anytime soon would be preferable. Though in these times, young ladies aren't normally seen doing such things. I can understand your mother's point of view." In his time, it would have been heresay. But. Times have changed.

He moves over to a cabinet and produces a syringe and a small vial of clear liquid. The needle punctures the vial and he pulls up only a small amount of the morphine within before putting the bottle away. Next he takes some gauze and dabbles some alcohol on it before he moves back to Esme's bedside, setting the needle aside. "This is for the pain. It will help." He promises, more sure of the effects of morphine than the outdated willowbark. The gauze he uses to clean the inside of her elbow and prepare the skin for the syringe. Setting the gauze aside, he takes the syringe and rests his golden eyes on her. "Your going to feel a pinch. I need you to stay strong for me and don't move." But he doesn't puncture just yet..

Obviously the girl has a will of her own. "Mother would prefer I sat in a stuffy room with her and her friends doing needlepoint all day dressed up as some over-pomped doll. I like the outdoors. I like space and fresh air," Esme insists quietly, though her tone is devoid of any petulance. She's simply stating things how she sees them. Maybe she's too strained with pain and exertion from the injury to find much bite in her voice, or maybe she really just sees things differently than her mother and is used to keeping quiet about such things so as to not be a horrible burden on her mother.


	7. Chapter 7

As he pulls away from her, she sighs and leans her head back against the pillow a little more, not realizing she had tilted her head at all so she could see him better. For a moment, she looks over at the curtain again, but her gaze flickers back up once more as he arrives at her side again with that syringe. Now her eyes widen a little, but she says nothing. It's obvious she's nervous about it, but looking back up into his golden gaze, she manages a brave little nod. "Okay," she breathes.

"One thing you should remember, is that we each make our own lives. Our families are apart of it, but our lives are our own." Carlisle offers in a soft tone, feeling as if he is intervening on the matters of humans- which he never does, aside from saving lives. Getting mixed up in human lives is dangerous, and something he generally tries to avoid. But there is that something…

As she puts her brave face back on, he smiles, his golden eyes smoldering before they shift to her arm to watch his work. With one hand, he holds her arm, the other he moves the syringe to pierce into the vein and inject the medicine. As soon as it begins, it is over, the syringe withdrawn. A piece of gauze is taken to put against the hole the needle made and he folds her arm. "Keep it like that for me, for now." He then smiles. "You did very well."

As he speaks, Esme falls quite silent and still, unable to pull her gaze from his. Something flashes across her expression briefly but it's so quick that it might be hard to interpret. But perhaps there's a little bit of understanding and some agreement… even mingled with a dose of frustration. Even in this day in age, a young woman such as herself finds it difficult to pull herself from the wishes of her parents. She then sighs wistfully before murmuring, "I hope you're right…"

But then her voice trails off as that smoldering gaze catches her full attentions yet again. Cheeks blush and lips part ever so slightly as she obviously reacts to the look. It -almost- distracts her completely from the needle. There is, however, a sharp intake of breath from her… but he'salready bent her arm and is instructing her to hold it that way. Beginning to breathe again, Esme murmurs, "Okay…" She then clears her throat a little and says quietly, "Thank you… you were very… good with me." When a drug like morphine hits the bloodstream, it doesn't take long for it to begin to work its magic. Her words slow and slur a little and creases in her forehead begin to smooth out as her heart works to pump the drug through her body.

Once the needle is withdrawn, he sets it aside for now for disposal later. He shifts back to her side, his golden eyes still warm, his smile gentle as he watches her face. "It should be kicking in soon. Your life is your own, Esme, but you are still young. Keep in mind your happiness." He offers in a low tone, a hand raising to brush some of her hair out of her face as she starts to go under. "Take care of yourself."

Once he is certain she is completely under with the drug, he works about getting the splint put on her leg and seated properly for healing. However, much to the chagrin of the local populace, Dr. Cullen leaves the following week, having apparently taken another job at a larger city.


End file.
